Missing
by xLollitaa
Summary: The only thing that fills my heart is my love for humans and my love for myself. "He's dead." "May I ask who is dead?"


"He's dead," the voice told me.

Uncertain of who the voice belonged to, I gazed slightly upwards. There was no one there. After a few seconds of staring off at the ceiling above me I went back to my work. Collecting information as always. How boring. I stretched my arms after reading a few more articles. They had nothing to do with one another, I blame mere curiosity.

"_He's dead," _the voice repeated. Who? Who could have possibly died? Doesn't matter to me, though. People and animals die every day; this had absolutely nothing to do with me.

_He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's nothing but a corpse. He's nothing but dead. He's dead. _

I yawned. It is so boring. My lovely humans aren't interesting enough today, what a pity. That won't do. I might as well push them around a little tomorrow. _Let's stir things up a little bit,_ I grinned. _What's youth without a little bit of spice, hm?_ It would be terribly boring if one were to just live this thing called an 'ordinary life.' Besides, people should be thanking me. After all, I _am_ the one that creates the different scenarios for them. Without me, humans would simply be walking aimlessly. But since I _am _here to love them and to push them, they are not walking but they are _running_.

Without hesitation, I threw my pile of papers on the table and leaned back on my chair. Once more, I took a gaze at the ceiling above me. I noticed some of its imperfections but was not bothered by it. I continued to stare at the space above me. One might say I was in deep thoughts, but I really wasn't. Instead, I actually was recalling some memories of the times I had in high school.

Of course my high school years were a mess, many thanks to Shizu-chan. I don't get excited by his existence, so it's best to not talk about him at all when with me. But as I was staring at the ceiling, a particular memory of mine stuck out from the rest.

* * *

"I don't really know how to describe you," Shinra said in his usual cheerful voice. He smiled a lot, but unlike Izaya, his smile was not one that would send off bad vibes. "You're what people would call 'evil,' y'know? Not even an ounce of you is good. You are, hm, you are..." the high school boy adjusted his glasses to hint that he was in deep thought. "You're one of those people that makes anyone wanna throw up!" he laughed, "you're so cowardly that you even make _me _wanna puke!"

Izaya's dark brown orbs glanced over at the person who was the closest to being classified as 'friend.' Izaya didn't care much about what Shinra was saying, he wasn't paying too much attention anyway. "Now that's not nice," he shot his signature smile.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way," the male with longer hair started to apologise. "I mean, you make us want to throw up in a _good _way. Yes, I mean, you _are _disgusting when it comes to your personality, but that's what makes you who you are, right? I mean, throwing up isn't such a terrible thing..." he began to ramble some more, contradicting himself multiple times.

"Well, I'm glad that I have even the smallest reaction from you people," Izaya said to stop the other from talking too much. With his elbow on his desk and his head resting on his left hand, he closed his eyes, taking in the silence of the empty classroom. "If it means throwing up then that's fine too."

"You weren't listening were you?"

"Not really," in his tone it showed that he was bored. "All I caught was you saying that I make others want to vomit."

"Don't take it in a bad way, I said it was a good thing."

"I know. I took it as a compliment anyway. If you consider throwing up as a way of showing love, that is," he smirked.

Shinra jumped on a desk next to where his friend was sitting and peered over at the un-erased chalkboard. Math equations and notes from students as they headed out of the classroom such as 'Ami was here!' with a heart accompanying it stained the board. One of the windows was opened and Shinra could feel a small breeze enter in the silent room.

"You keep going on about humanity and how people should love you," he started again, "but it's hard to love you since you're so unlikable. Once someone starts to like you, you let them down and then all of a sudden you make them do one of the three things. You either make them one, hate you; two, wanna kill you; or three, wanna kill themselves."

"I don't make them do anything, Shinra." Izaya's eyes laid on the other high school student. "I'm not the one who decides what they should do and what they should not. I just give them a little push. It's like if they're on one side of a situation and I want to see them on the other, I'll just give them a slight push and they'll walk on their own."

"Still, pushing them is considered as cruel. Even if it is the _slightest _push."

At this point the lover of humanity had nothing to say. His eyes were fixed to the chalkboard but wasn't actually reading the text or characters on it.

"No one's going to love you for all that long. You say you're in love with humans but it's kind of like you're barely human yourself," a chuckle slipped out of his lips. "Your heart is fading away, don't you think?"

"If that's how you view it," Izaya shrugged. The answer only made the other's smile widen.

"Were you always like this, Orihara-kun? Even back in elementary school?"

"In elementary I was the top student and quiet. Rather than starting commotions I just watched them and observed people," he gave a thoughtful hum. "I suppose you can say that I'm the exact opposite today, but I'm still one of the top students, so I couldn't have changed _that _much," his lips curved into a smirk.

"Gee, you're a terrible person, to say the least. So in elementary you were developing this unlikable character of yours. I wonder what happened."

"What do you mean?" He fixed his hands on the desk, supporting him as he got up from his seat, getting ready to stretch.

"I mean like... I wonder," Shinra repeated, "I wonder what happened to _it_." Silence embraced the room once more, Izaya waiting for him to continue. "You don't know what I mean, do you?" Shinra asked as he fixed his large glasses.

"Getting a few ideas, but I doubt they're what you're talking about."

A small laugh came out of Shinra, who placed his hand on his mouth in order to prevent his giggle to turn into a hysterical laugh.

"Your _purity_, silly. I'm talking about your purity – where'd it go?"

* * *

"He's dead," the voice repeated itself. It had said the two words multiple times throughout my routine before I headed to bed. While brushing my teeth the voice had called about three times. While taking a shower the words crawled into my mind eight times.

Such words continuously being played in one's mind would drive them crazy. But I wasn't paying much attention to it. I had appreciated the beautiful thing called 'temperance.' I understood that nothing lasts forever years ago. Therefore, it would be true if I said this voice would not stay in my head for too long. Sure, at least once or twice I would become irritated from hearing the words over and over again at different times. But that was fine. I shrugged it off in the end, like nothing happened.

"He's dead."

Again and again those words would trigger in my mind.

"He's dead."

And sometimes I barely noticed the voice. So I continue on with what I was doing.

"_He's dead."_

As I crept into the bed, my mind wandered into different places. I thought about who or what gang I should target next. Or perhaps I should get target another foolish high school girl washed away by emotions. What would be even more fun would be if I could meet up with another suicidal person... Two or three would actually be more of the preferred number. The bad part about that it isn't guaranteed that they will be a fun group. I don't know if the people will be interesting or tedious at all. Wouldn't it be great if they were atheists?

I was getting excited while being caught up in my bundle of ideas. What excites me is the fact that my humans will react to me in some way... they'll either be shocked or flustered that I could read right through them in the end. This will result to two possible things, they will either one; despise me or want to get revenge – most likely from a nice and clean punch or slap. Rarely will they go to the extent on the desire to kill.

Or two, even though this doesn't happen often, they would be happy that someone could finally understand them, not caring if they are in the state of humiliation. They would be full of joy knowing that someone is able to think like them. They would soon attempt to wipe out that feeling of loneliness and think that no one understood them up until now. Then they'd propose to become more than acquaintances.

"Of course I'd politely decline," I said playfully, not bothered by the fact I was talking to myself.

But that's what's so fascinating about human beings. They're all so easy to manipulate if you understand how their minds and hearts work, but you are never one hundred percent sure about what their decisions will be. There are those who exceed my expectations and they are the ones that keep things interesting. But that doesn't mean I love them more than the tedious ones. I love all human beings, excluding monsters disguised as humans of course.

"_He's dead," _the voice whispered to me again.

Since I recently had those marvellous plans and thoughts, I was feeling rather joyous, inclining myself to suddenly reply to the voice.

"May I ask who is dead?"

There was no reply, but there was never a reply to be expected in the first place.

I smiled under the darkness of the room. Everything was a blur and it was terribly dark. The lights of Shinjuku revealed themselves outside my window from the small gap between my curtains. But even though it was pitch black in my home, I still had what people might call my 'daytime attitude.'

People claim that I am the owner of a cold heart. So I guess that means I'm as cold hearted as ever, even though it's night time, when things are calmer and no one is with me.

They say that I have a rotting heart. The only thing that fills my heart is my love for humans and my love for myself. Nothing else could ever come close to being worthy of making room into my heart.

It was getting rather late and I had a pile of files to fill, phone calls to expect and papers to write awaiting for me the next day. I heard the shuffling sound of the mattress sheets as I prepared for sleep. I laid there for about ten minutes before I felt drowsy. And yet just before I fell into deep sleep, I heard it again.

"He's dead."

From the end of the voice onwards, I saw an endless sky of black. Before I knew it, I was unconscious and asleep.

* * *

Like any dream, you don't know how you got to where you were. You don't know how the dream began and rarely do you remember how it ends. Only in the time when you are half conscious are you going to recall the dream. Dreams can last for twenty seconds and yet it seems like three days.

When it comes down to Izaya, it didn't matter how long the actual dream was. If he dreamt that he was somewhere for three hours, then he would believe he was there for three hours. Because to him, real enough is good enough.

Where the informant was tonight was in a place where things were unrecognizable. He was in a place he had never been in before. There was nothing in this place that resembled Shinjuku or Ikebukuro.

The informant felt lost but he stayed calm, hiding his emotions behind a smile.

Everything was out of place here. Things weren't tangible either. Izaya attempted to touch the items displayed neatly before him, not knowing what they were used for or how to use them. He thought it would be nice to see if there was some sort of button or trigger to activate or fire the objects.

But to his surprise, even though the look of a surprised person did not show on his face, the objects were like holograms or ghosts. The informant only felt air when he tried to grasp them.

He wandered around the place, deciding not to touch anything because he predicted that all items in the room were intangible.

At last he came to a stopping point where he found a door. Izaya had thought to pass by casually but couldn't help but take a peek at what place this door could lead him to.

The knob was able to be felt. The man calmly took grasp of the knob and turned it while simultaneously opening, listening to the creaking sounds the door made.

Like an afterlife, one might describe it as; Izaya was welcomed into a totally different world. This place was completely covered in white. The ground was barely visible and the twenty three year old man couldn't say if it was a very pale sky or white ceiling above him, nor did he care at all.

But in the centre of it all, there was a little boy who was sitting with his head hanging low. Anyone passing by would mistake him for a child in weeping or in mourning. Although, the boy did not give off the sound of sniffles or the sounds of a broken heart. With that, Izaya was convinced that such a boy would probably be sleeping in a sitting position.

The child seemed to be about four or five or so. Izaya didn't actually find children good for anything but being rowdy in the house and wasting time and energy. He didn't particularly enjoy playing with the lives with children as much as pre-teens, teens, and adults. Children would usually be put in a circumstance where they didn't understand even half the situation. It amused the informant a bit, but it wasn't satisfactory, as he might say.

At first he wanted to walk back into the other mysterious room he was in before he stepped into this one. But before he could even turn around, a high pitched voice called for him.

"Wait," the voice said calmly. The voice sounded oddly familiar. It was almost too familiar it sent a sudden trigger in Izaya's brain, making him turn back around quickly. He collected himself, making sure he didn't seem vulnerable, even if the person in the room was a child. The informant was unsure if the boy was his opponent at this point.

"I suppose we've met before," Izaya stated flatly. He knew who he was talking to. It was someone who he hadn't talked to in so long. Actually, he _couldn't _talk to this person. It would almost be impossible.

"Yes, I-za-ya," the boy's words stumbled clumsily. "It's been a long time."

"I don't have any business with you, so I guess I should head out now," the informant sang with a smile on his face.

"Don't give me that stupid smile, I-za-ya. It looks bad on you. It's too much like plastic."

"You should work a little bit on your Japanese, it's somewhat informal. You shouldn't talk to someone who is older than you in an informal matter. That's impolite. You should know that better than anyone else."

"I don't need to be formal with you. After all, you can't change me. I _am _you."

The boy's head rose, revealing his facial features. He was the typical child, chubby and what people might call 'cute.' To Izaya, this boy was anything but cute. This boy was exactly the same boy that was in the family photos from years ago. In Izaya's eyes, this boy was absolutely disgusting. This boy in front of him no longer lived, is no longer human. Something like that could not be loved by Izaya.

"You sound terrible, it's like you're disrespecting your own self. That's so low of you... I didn't think I was that pathetic when I was younger," the older mocked. "I love myself more than anything or anyone else. I love myself more than I love humans, you know."

"You study humans, don't you?" the boy titled his head, his facial expression confused. "But if that's the case, don't you know already...? We all love ourselves more than anyone else in this world. We are selfish things. Our own self always comes first."

Surprised by how such a child, even though it was himself, could say such things, Izaya smiled at the other. It was his reflection of his younger self. "That's true. All people love themselves first. Even those who are sad and sulky. The suicidal or the ones that enjoy their life to the fullest – they are all selfish. We all want to be pleased. When we want, we will go for it. We love ourselves so much that we want to provide the things that will make us happy. People will go to different lengths to get to the next place beyond or to get to what they want."

The younger self looked at his own future self, "so this is what I look like when I grow up... I-za-ya is very handsome."

"When I grow up' isn't exactly the right term," Izaya sighed. "You don't exist anymore. The younger Orihara Izaya doesn't have a place in this world any longer – it's just me."

"... Doesn't I-za-ya get lonely?"

"Not a chance," the informant laughed, tears almost spilling out of his eyes. "Ha, you're so funny I think I might vomit."

The younger observed the other laughing; he didn't understand what was so funny. Maybe this was adult humour? "I don't believe it. I-za-ya must get lonely sometimes."

"That's right; you're very young so that means you don't know about _that _yet, do you? Very well, I'll give you some information. After a few years, my sisters were born. Twins, they're basically the same person but in two bodies. They really are bothersome so you can't really feel loneliness anymore. You have no time for yourself."

"But even so, I-za-ya seems to look sad and depressed."

"Why would the great Orihara Izaya feel sadness? There is nothing to feel gloomy about. Besides, anyone who attempts to hurt me physically or mentally is bound to fail at it. Loneliness comes from the mind and the heart. Loneliness is usually when someone is in the state of emptiness or if they are alone. But if there is no one to accompany you and heal your loneliness, you must fill it with yourself. I've filled that empty side of my heart far too long ago that I don't understand the feeling of loneliness anymore."

"You sound so sure about it..." the younger muttered. "But I know I-za-ya best, I'm sure he's a little flawed and a little broken and a little empty," the younger smiled. "I know you're lonely. Maybe if you'd let me stick around for a little while longer, you wouldn't be as pathetic as you are today."

"I wouldn't describe myself as pathetic. Besides, I don't see the point in repeating myself. I'm not lonely. As long as I love others, others don't need to love me back. I still feel connected with them, even though the love is only one sided."

"I-za-ya is really pathetic if you ask me, you're what people like to call a psycho."

"Well people may have an opinion on me, it doesn't matter. If they have emotions or thoughts about me, even the slightest one, that means they have noticed me. And being noticed is such a nice feeling because that signifies you are ready to play a game with them!" his fingers snapped as his voice hummed. He felt joy rushing throughout his body. He recalled the memories and facial expressions of particular humans in different circumstances. "Games are always so fun, don't you think?"

"I don't really want to know what kind of games I-za-ya plays..."

"That's too bad. But that's fine; you're far too young and undeveloped to understand the games I play. My games are purely mental."

"You ravaged yourself, you can't possibly be human anymore," the younger boy's voice wavered in fear but he also stayed collected.

"I get that very often, I don't need my _past self _to remind me," the twenty three year old shrugged. "I didn't expect a conversation to be this tedious, I think I should head out now!"

"I-za-ya, can I ask you?" the smaller Orihara questioned with a touch of whininess in his voice. "Do you regret it...?"

"Regret what?" the informant asked, his hand rested on the door knob, ready to turn it the second the conversation was over.

"Do you regret killing it? Your purity?"

* * *

"_He's dead," _the voice whispered in my ear as I woke up. I sat up and stared at my clock which informed me that it was four in the morning.

I smirked. I believe that was one of the most amusing dreams I have ever experienced. But a dream is just a dream; it should not have any significance in your life unless you allow it to. At this point, I believe that I don't need anything to drive me forward because I have everything that I must have to live.

_Do I regret killing my purity? _I pondered on the last words my younger reflection said to me. _He's long gone – a corpse. Such an existence must have been forgotten already. I never intended to kill him. What happened was that my pure self was dying slowly and I decided to just kill him off to ease his suffering. My purity was slowly washing away when I took interest in observing others. In high school, I finally murdered my purity and let it vanish from my life completely. I allowed myself to get stained with love. Love for all humanity. And that love is far more powerful than my purity could ever take. Killing it was something that has never bothered me. So, _I folded my hands, staring at the space in front of me. _How do I feel about killing something so innocent?_

"I don't regret anything."

* * *

**xLollitaa: **Uwaah, that writing... (shakes head) This style is definitely not for me, haha.

There's nothing much to say. Um, the boy was Izaya's purity; just to let you guys know if anyone's confused... Ehm, let's see... I'm very sorry for basic grammatical errors! I'm terrible at fluency. Nothing much to say except that I had multiple people read this before I went to upload. Their reviews really made me happy, so I don't think this piece is all that crappy.

Songs played in the background as I wrote this piece:  
_Claire de Lune – Claude Debussy_  
_Raein – Olafur Arnalds_  
_Hijo de la Luna – Mecano_  
_Prelude Op. 11 No. 8 – Scriabin_  
_Nocturne Op. 62 No. 1 – Chopin_  
_Chasse-Neige (Kissin) – Liszt_  
_Moonlight Sonata – Beethoven_  
_Romance for Piano for Violin Op. 11 – Dvorak_  
_My Voy – Yasmin Levy_  
_Una Noche Mas – Yasmin Levy_

Review please? I'd really like to know if I've captured Izaya's personality well. I want to roleplay as him online but I'm afraid that I might be terrible at it. From reading this fanfic, do you think I'm able to pull it off?

I don't usually communicate with people by using FFNet, I spend most of my time on Tumblr. If you want to just like... keep in touch with me or if you have any questions about _any _of my writing pieces, just ask on Tumblr.

I'm pink-macaroon [ .tumblr ] [ .com ]

If you go anonymous then I'll reply and I'll tag the post under 'anon.' To get to the page, just add a [ /tagged/anon ] to my main blog link.

Death Note fanfiction up next! Another Raito x L and I'll make sure it's smutty.

And a final note:  
Happy Birthday, Orihara Izaya-san! I hope you eat enough ootoro to make you satisfied! I hope that your humans aren't boring today! I hope you enjoy your day and nothing pisses you off! Happy twenty first birthday – Because you're forever twenty one!


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